The headless waltz
by Maldolwen
Summary: Voltaire's song inspired this little monster. After the french revolution Paris lived under the terror of the guillotine.


**Author's note : this was inspired by Voltaire's song "The headless waltz". If you don't know this wonderful singer go to his youtube page : voltairemusicpage. Be warned that this story is quite bloody.**

**I don't own anything**

I'm the Head of the Board, cutting heads, and I'm losing mine.

It all started with this queen of ours, claiming that if we didn't have bread we should be eating brioche. That proved that she was a simpleton. Soon Paris started to revolt, the Bastille fall and we got our hands on the king and his family. To him we meant no harm. He had tried to be a good king, to listen to his people, and we had in mind that he would still play a role in the leading of our great country. We thought he was smart enough to understand us, he who helped the USA to be free of England's domination.

But as for his wife… Nothing could save HER. She had always only been thinking of herself, of her own amusement. So she was to die by this new item, the guillotine, supposed to bring painless and quick death. That was the last respect she would have from us.

When they brought her to me, I was stunned by how young she still looked, despite her hair that turned white in a few days only. I thought it suited her.

Everybody was silent. When her head fell in the basket, the crowd exploded in joy, as if they had feared a last minute divine intervention.

Before disposing of the body, I pulled on her hair, and lifted her head, so that I could look her in the eyes. I was shocked as how serene she looked.

* * *

After that, very quickly, every one accused of wanting monarchy was given to me. The heads started to roll every hour, and the crowd was always as numerous, the lost ones replaced by country boys heading to the capital to live more intensely this strange period, and gain some advantage of it.

In my dreams I saw the headless corpses dancing, happy at last, the only ones in Paris not worried about our future. We might be free from the king and his frivolous queen but that didn't gave us the food we missed so desperately.

This one today cursed me. She was casting a spell when the blade was released on her neck. I swear that I saw her lips moving in the head basket, and I heard a faint whisper from her bloody neck. Unarticulated words, that I couldn't catch, not even by trying to read at her lips.

* * *

Tonight I saw them all, nobles, peasants, all those bodies I made headless. They were dancing the waltz in every street, sometime letting some drops of blood on the floor behind them. Soon the paving stones looked like little islands on a sea of blood. And they were more and more, dancing in their dresses, all red, at least around the neck. The more they were, the more blood there was, tainting the Seine, rising slowly. But all I could look at was their bodies. From the way they danced, those guttural laughs I heard, I could say that their faces, wherever they were, were smiling wildly. And suddenly I wanted to join them, to dance like this, without thinking for once, without wondering, fearing, calculating.

* * *

I went to see my boys and talk to them like this, nearly singing as the waltz was still playing in my head: "Sharpen up the blade, boys, I am bored of my head". At first they didn't move and, gosh, if they weren't to use their heads, maybe they should lose them too. I told them so, and they started moving at least, doing what I said, scared. I was the Head of the Board, everyone was scared of me. Without my head they would not recognize me. And with this happy thought I placed my head over the basket, knowing it would not trouble me much longer.

* * *

We boys did let him place his neck under the blade. We didn't release it of course, that would have brought a lot of troubles on us. One of the guys tried jokingly to imitate the sound of the falling blade. It was a poor imitation and when we saw the Head of the Board rose, we thought he came back to his spirits. But then he started to dance a waltz, laughing on his own. We watched for a while, unable to speak. Then he turned to the basket and, seeing it empty, exclaimed: « I loosed my head! », and went hurrying in the streets, asking everyone if they had seen his « fat ugly head ».

He may not have lost his head, but he lost his mind for sure.


End file.
